(Signed)
THE OUTLAW OF THUNDER CLOUD.

We found the package, or Charlie Sands found it for us, and the express
company paid us the reward. We gave it to Aggie, and with the exception
of fifty dollars she turned it all in at the church, where it created
almost a riot. With the fifty dollars we purchased, through Charlie
Sands, a revolver with a silver inlaid handle, and sent it to the real
Sheriff Muldoon. It eased our consciences somewhat.

That was all last spring. It is summer now. Tish is talking again of
flowering hedgerows and country lanes, but Aggie and I do not care for
the country, and the mere sight of a donkey gives me a chill.

Yesterday evening, on our way to prayer meeting, we heard a great noise
of horns coming and stopped to see a four-in-hand go by. A young
gentleman was driving, with a pretty girl beside him. As we lined up at
the curb he turned smiling from the girl and he caught our eyes.

He started, and then, bowing low, he saluted us from the box.

It was "Muldoon."

TISH DOES HER BIT

From the very beginning of the war Tish was determined to go to France.
But she is a truthful woman, and her age kept her from being accepted.
She refused, however, to believe that this was the reason, and blamed
her rejection on Aggie and myself.

"Age fiddlesticks!" she said, knitting violently. "The plain truth
is--and you might as well acknowledge it, Lizzie--that they would take
me by myself quick enough, just to get the ambulance I've offered, if
for no other reason. But they don't want three middle-aged women, and I
don't know that I blame them."

That was during September, I think, and Tish had just received her third
rejection. They were willing enough to take the ambulance, but they
would not let Tish drive it. I am quite sure it was September, for I
remember that Aggie was having hay fever at the time, and she fell to
sneezing violently.

Tish put down her knitting and stared at Aggie fixedly until the
paroxysm was over.

"Exactly," she observed, coldly. "Imagine me creeping out onto a
battlefield to gather up the wounded, and Aggie crawling behind, going
off like an alarm clock every time she met a clump of golden rod, or
whatever they have in France to produce hay fever."

"I could stay in the ambulance, Tish," Aggie protested.

"I understand," Tish went on, in an inflexible tone, "that those German
snipers have go